


Impossible to Resist

by Kateera



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anal, Bottom Jim, Christmas Cookies, Established Relationship, M/M, Married Life, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Teasing, Top Oswald Cobblepot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 04:25:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13115970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kateera/pseuds/Kateera
Summary: Oswald gets a little carried away in the kitchen with his cookie baking frenzy, upsetting their chef and caretaker. Jim decides on the perfect way to distract him.





	Impossible to Resist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thekeyholder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/gifts).



> HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAY ALL YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE! Written for the ever marvelous [thekeyholder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder) on her birthday.
> 
> Beta'd by [Nekomata58919](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekomata58919) who graciously agreed to look this over!  
> All other mistakes are my own.
> 
> Check me out on [tumblr](http://kateera.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/kateera_) to say hi and ask questions and flail over Gobblepot.

 

The last few notes of 'Jingle Bells' faded into the background as Jim entered the large mansion of the Van Dahl estate. He smiled and set down his work bag, a few files from the office sticking out of the top that he was sure Oswald would know to look through and provide much needed information on when the time came. It was a delicate balance, this life they'd built together, but he wouldn't trade it for all the security of a normal relationship.

"Hey, is that you, Jim?"

Oswald's voice called to him from the kitchen and he entered to an array of cookies spread out along the counters, each shaped to match the season. Along the back wall there were Christmas trees and stars and across the island counter-tops, bells and reindeer and Santa Claus lay in lines across the marble.

"Get bored, my dear?" Jim asked, picking up a reindeer cookie and wiggling his eyebrows.

Oswald looked up at him and huffed. "Jim! Those aren't for you, you know."

Jim didn't break eye contact as he bit down into the crispy sugar cookie.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Oswald glared at him. "That's one less cookie for the Gotham Children's Home."

"You'll just make more," Jim said, talking around the food in his mouth as he walked to the stove where Oswald stood. "Besides, someone has to taste test."

Oswald smiled at that and wiped a crumb off of Jim's shirt. "Always so reasonable, huh?"

"One of us has to be," Jim retorted, pressing a kiss to Oswald's forehead. "You've covered our kitchen in enough cookies for the entire population of Gotham."

"Not true," Oswald said with a tilt of his head. "I've baked three hundred and thirty eight cookies and Gotham's current residence sits at just a little over eight million."

Jim chuckled and took another bite of his cookie, loosening his tie as he munched on the treat. A timer dinged and Oswald slipped on his oven mitts, brightly patterned with poinsettias, and took another tray of cookies out of the oven.

"Three hundred and fifty."

As soon as Oswald put his tray down, Jim slid behind him and pressed his nose to the back of his neck, inhaling the scent of sweet cookie dough, flour, and Oswald. "I love you."

"What did I do now?" Oswald asked, turning around in Jim's arms and placing a hand on his cheek.

"You're Gotham's number one crime lord and you're currently baking cookies for orphans," Jim said with a fond smile. "You're a lesson in contradictions and I love it."

Oswald brought Jim's head down and kissed him. Wrapping his arms tighter around his husband, Jim sank into the kiss and wondered at his good fortune.

Two years ago, this scenario would have sent him screaming in rage, the very idea of loving Oswald, of building a life with The Penguin too outrageous to consider. It only took a few months of living and working in a Gotham without Oswald's influence to realize his value, to both the city, and to himself.

Smiling into the kiss, Jim reached around Oswald and snagged a cookie off the counter, backing up and stuffing it in his mouth.

"Get out of my kitchen!" Oswald pointed to toward the living room and Jim backed out, taking a few more cookies with him as he headed for the bedroom.

Entering the large master suite, Jim set his stolen goods on the nightstand and took off his gun and badge, laying them in their designated place on the dresser. He took off his suit jacket and tie, slipping his shoes off and pulling his shirt off. He ate his cookies and changed into his normal home attire, soft flannel pants and t-shirt and a pair of plush house slippers.

Someone knocked on his door and he opened it to see Helga on the other side.

"Yes?" he asked.

It had taken time for him to get used to life in the Van Dahl house with its sprawling landscape and even more time to get used to having a live-in caretaker.

"Mr. Cobblepot has taken over my kitchen," Helga said, wringing her hands. "Please, tell him I make excellent cookies and he doesn't need to trouble himself anymore."

Jim shook his head. "Sorry, Helga. Baking is kind of his thing this time of year. You're better off just letting him be."

"It's my kitchen," she said with a frown. "I'm supposed to have dinner prepared, but he won't let me in!"

"I know, and I'll remind him later." Jim gave her a pat on the arm. "Why don't I call for takeout from Wren's Bistro? You can go get it while I try to coax him out of your kitchen."

She huffed and shuffled her feet, but at last nodded and walked away. Jim smiled as she left and grabbed his phone, calling in their regular order while he munched on the last cookie from the nightstand. With food successfully secured, Jim headed back to the kitchen.

Oswald stood next to the stove, carefully cutting stars shapes in his cookie dough with his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth in concentration. Jim leaned against the wall and watched him work.

Whatever they might have inflicted on each other in the past, no one in Gotham could deny that Jim and Oswald loved each other to death, sometimes needing to prove it when some lowlife tried to rise up and take a piece of the city for themselves. Compromising hadn't come easy for Jim. Whenever too many bodies rolled into the morgue, he still had to retreat to his office at times to cool down, but the darkness in Gotham had brightened to a soft gray since Oswald's return to power. Side by side they'd wrestled the city back from those who'd tried to destroy its spirit and now they stood against the tide as a force to be feared.

"What are you doing back in my kitchen?" Oswald asked, not turning around from his task.

"Helga was under the impression that it was her kitchen. She's quite upset that you haven't let her in to make dinner." Jim furrowed his brow and put on his best scowl.

"It's my house so that makes it my kitchen." Oswald turned around to see Jim's expression. "Oh don't give me that look. She'll get over it."

"I had to send her for takeout," Jim said, shaking his head and trying not to smile. "She was very offended."

Snorting with laughter, Oswald set down his cookie cutter and put his hands on his hips. "Her Christmas bonus should smooth out any ruffled feathers."

Jim stalked over to him, sliding close enough to see the flecks of gold in Oswald's eyes. "I thought smoothing ruffled feathers was my job."

Oswald swallowed hard. "Not-not with the staff."

Jim ran his hand down Oswald's arm. "Ah, well that clears a few things up. Any feathers in here I should be concerned with?"

"Only if you make me burn my cookies," Oswald said in a harsh whisper.

"Can't have that," Jim whispered back before he leaned in and pressed their lips together, running his tongue along the seam of Oswald's mouth and then pulling away. "I suppose I'll have to entertain myself for the rest of the night."

He turned and walked away, taking slow steps towards the exit.

"I'll just, I'll just be a minute," Oswald said in a rush. "The batch in the oven makes three hundred and sixty two and that's plenty."

"Are you sure?" Jim asked, facing Oswald again and stretching his arms over his head to make his t-shirt ride up and expose his stomach. "I would hate to deprive those children of their treats."

"I'm sure." Oswald stared at the strip of skin above Jim's pants.

Jim nodded and walked out of the kitchen backwards. "I'll go see if the bedroom has anything to entertain me while I wait."

He left the kitchen, the sight of Oswald with his lips parted and his eyes wide burning a path of excitement all the way through his body.

Entering the bedroom, Jim stripped off his shirt and pants and laid down on the soft down comforter, spreading his legs and taking hold of his rapidly hardening cock. He never grew tired of seeing such obvious desire for him in Oswald's shining green eyes and married life only heightened his need for the ridiculously complicated man. He stroked himself and thought of their first time together, the fierce fight that left them scrambling to tear off their clothes and the soft morning after that laid the foundation for their life together.

He heard the familiar shuffle of Oswald's footsteps and leaned back against the pillows, closing his eyes and keeping his hand moving along his cock as the door opened. A gasp echoed in the room, but Jim didn't open his eyes as he felt Oswald move closer. The bed dipped and he finally opened his eyes to see Oswald staring at him, completely dressed while his eyes devoured the sight of Jim spread out before him.

"See something you like?" Jim asked in a low growl.

"I see something I love," Oswald said.

The plain spoken truth from Oswald's lips sent a shiver through Jim's body.

"Take off your clothes," Jim said, gesturing to Oswald's shirt and trousers.

Standing and slipping off his shoes, Oswald undressed while his eyes stayed on Jim and his slow stroking hand.

When Oswald stood in front of him, naked and panting, Jim patted the bed. "Come here."

Oswald shuffled forward and sank down on the bed, swinging his legs up and curling around Jim's side. Tilting his head down, Jim captured Oswald's lips with his own and groaned as a slim hand pushed his own away and wrapped around his cock.

"Fuck, fuck." Jim broke the kiss with a gasp as Oswald began moving his hand, stroking Jim with familiar pressure and bringing him to the edge of release.

Oswald leaned in. "You're not touching me."

Reaching between them, Jim fluttered his fingers over Oswald's curved cock, gathering pre-cum from the tip and spreading it down his smooth pink length. Listening to Oswald's stuttering breath, Jim shifted until he could latch onto the patch of skin behind his ear, sucking a mark into the sensitive flesh.

"Jim!"

Oswald's hips thrust forward, rocking into Jim's hand. He chuckled and then whined as Oswald's hand stopped it's steady strokes.

"Edge of the bed," Oswald said, patting Jim's leg before opening the nightstand and brought out the lube.

Jim flipped to the edge of the bed, spreading his legs to give Oswald easier access. Their custom made bed was the exact right height to let Oswald fuck Jim while standing, keeping him from kneeling and putting too much strain on his knees, and Jim blessed the accommodating furniture maker every time Oswald suggested the position. He loved being inside Oswald, feeling his walls squeeze tight and take his breath away, but there was something powerful about kneeling on their bed and letting Oswald take control of him with the same fierce competence that won him the crown of Gotham's underworld.

"Beautiful," Oswald murmured and the reverence in his voice made Jim blush, even after all this time together.

Cool hands slid down his back and over the swell of his ass, squeezing the plump muscle and spreading his cheeks apart. Jim stilled his breathing and waited, listening to the click of the lube bottle and the slight squelch as Oswald measured out a dollop of the slick liquid. Closing his eyes, he willed his body to relax as Oswald dragged a lubed finger across his entrance and then pushed inside him.

For a split second, Jim tensed against the intrusion, but he soon relaxed and pushed back against Oswald's hand, urging him to continue. Long slender fingers slowly worked him open and loosened his muscles and Jim melted on the bed.

"Oswald, please," Jim whined, pushing back on the fingers inside him. "I need you."

Turning his head, he watched Oswald pour out more lube, slicking up his cock and shifting forward. "Ready?"

"So ready, please, please, please." Jim didn't care that he sounded pitiful. He would beg kneeling on a bed of nails for the feel of Oswald sliding deep inside of him and rocking them both to pieces.

Closing his eyes, Jim took a deep breath and as Oswald's cock pushed into him, he moaned, loud and long.

"You sound obscene," Oswald said, panting as he buried his cock deep inside Jim, grabbing at his hips and pulling him forward until they were fully joined.

"You're fucking me," Jim replied, voice strained and pitched high in his throat. "How else would I sound?"

All thought disappeared from Jim's mind as Oswald pulled out, shifted his angle, and thrust back inside, bumping Jim's prostate and making lightning spark in his veins. His whole body narrowed to the slide and push of Oswald behind him and he gripped at the comforter beneath him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Jim couldn't form sentences, but he couldn't stay silent while his pleasure built under Oswald's attentive precision. "Yes, please! Yes, right there, don't stop, please. Don't stop."

Reaching between his legs, Jim gave his cock a few quick tugs and fell over the edge. Jim's ears rang and his skin prickled and lights exploded behind his eyes as the orgasm burst through him. While his body spasmed under the deluge of sensation, he clenched around Oswald and felt him ride through his own release.

Collapsing onto the comforter, now covered in his cum, Jim caught his breath while Oswald slipped out of him and leaned over, pressing a kiss to the sweat slicked skin of his back.

"I love you," Jim breathed, too glazed to do more than mumble.

Oswald must have heard him because more kisses peppered his back. "I love you too, you silly man."

"Can't move," Jim said into the mattress.

Oswald patted his ass. "That's fine. I'll be right back."

Humming in response, Jim rolled over and stared up at the ceiling. Within seconds, Oswald returned with a damp cloth, wiping himself and Jim down.

"We'll have to wash the comforter, again," Oswald said with a sigh.

"My fault," Jim said, turning his head to look at Oswald. "But I don't care."

Smacking at Jim's leg, Oswald scooted him over until he could pull the comforter from off the bed and toss it into the large laundry basket marked 'linens'.

"You want to shower before dinner?" Oswald asked.

From the tone of Oswald's voice, Jim deduced that it was less a question and more a demand.

"As soon as I can move," Jim answered.

Oswald stepped forward and placed his hands on Jim's face, kissing him in a soft tender manner that created a few futile twitches in Jim's cock.

"I love you." Oswald's bright green eyes held the truth of his words and Jim smiled.

"I love you too, cookie monster," Jim said and caught Oswald's hand before he could smack him again. "Go tend to your baked goods. I'll see you in a bit for dinner."

Smiling wide, Oswald nodded and grabbed his robe, throwing on the soft silken garment while Jim watched in adoration. Nothing could have prepared Jim for losing his heart to the unpredictable gangster, but sometimes Oswald's dedication to the city's less fortunate amazed and humbled him.

Gathering his strength, Jim rolled off the bed and walked to the bathroom, grinning as his legs protested the movement and sticky fluid dripped down his leg. Jim adored the lingering effects of being thoroughly fucked by his husband, someone that most would assume too pandering and sycophantic to bring a man like Jim to his knees. He snorted at the strange assumption.

_Being fucked feels too good to let Oswald have all the fun._

Jim turned the shower head settings to 'massage' and hopped in, groaning as the hot jets of water hit his sore muscles. He kept the shower short, not wanting to keep Oswald from his dinner when he had cookies to decorate. Drying off and throwing on his flannel pants and t-shirt, Jim walked back to the kitchen.

"I'm not sure I would have gone that far," Oswald told Helda as Jim entered the room. "It would take more than frosting a few cookies to make me fire you."

Jim looked around the kitchen to see a good portion of the cookies decorated and placed in parchment lined tins. Dinner stood steaming from take out containers on the kitchen island and Helga looked ready to defend her work space from another penguin invasion.

"Wow, Helga, you work fast," Jim said, reaching past Oswald and snagging a green frosted cookie off the top of the nearest stack.

"Jim!"


End file.
